___________

The new floors are now in, and I've replaced the yucky industrial heat registers with nifty new brass ones. Here's Boogie, modeling the new kitchen. He doesn't care much for it - his paws slip on the surface, and he can't tear around the way he used to without wiping out.

Here's the downstairs bath/laundry room:

Here's the master bath:

And the guest bath:

Sorry for the quality of the photos - my camera is fixing to give up the ghost. I've asked for a new one for my birthday, but until then, I'm stuck with what I've got.

Now that the nifty new floors are in, we're noticing other things that need attention - like paint. Lots and lots of paint. Since my school schedule will be somewhat light this summer, I expect I'll be spending that extra time taping and painting. I've already bought paint for the guest bath, which really is in the most dire need of attention.

He's disrespectful! He hates the military! He's a communist! A socialist! A liberal black president!

Whatever.

The fact of the matter is that while the President visited Arlington last year, this year he will instead be visiting the Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery outside Chicago. You know - the National Cemetery that bears the name of the President who actually established our National Cemetery system? Vice President Biden will be attending the memorial at Arlington.

I don't get why everyone's so wrapped around the axle over this. It's not like the President isn't paying his respects to our war dead by, say, going to his California ranch for the weekend.

Here's the thing. I'm a veteran. I have deep feelings about what the Commander in Chief owes our men and women in uniform, both living and dead. I recognize that Arlington is the country's most prestigious National Cemetery. But I'm also from the center of the country, and prestigious is not necessarily synonymous with important. In spite of what some east coasters think, there are other National Cemeteries in this country, and the men and women buried there are equally deserving of our respect and remembrance as those buried in Arlington. For the families whose loved ones are buried at the Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery, that cemetery is far more important than Arlington.

In my view, the President's decision to visit Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery is incredibly respectful. By spreading his much-sought-after attention to other National Cemeteries, he's showing the country that he also recognizes the sacrifices of those who aren't buried at Arlington, and it's not just about photo ops in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

This Memorial Day, I want to recognize and remember all those who fell, regardless of where they're buried, and I respect the President for wanting that, too.

I'm a "STEM" worker. STEM, the abbreviation for Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics, made its way into the common lexicon as grass roots organizations attempt to increase the number of college graduates who pursue these disciplines.

My official, HR approved title at my job is "Systems Engineer III." The title on my business card is "Senior Systems Engineer." I self-identify as an "SE." My boss is identified as an "SE Manager."

But it's a fraud.

I don't have an engineering degree. My immediate team-mates don't have engineering degrees. From where I sit, we're technologists, not engineers.

That's not to belittle what we do - we provide a valuable service to our customer base, and the breadth of knowledge required to do our jobs is considerable. We're required to pass professionally proctored certification exams as a condition of employment. In order to remain effective, we must maintain our technical skills and stay abreast of current technology trends.

But we're not engineers.

I think one of the reasons the U.S. has fallen behind in our STEM education is because we've allowed labels like "engineer" and "scientist" to be watered down. When people like Walter L. Wagner are allowed to call themselves "Dr." without challenge as a result of attending an unaccredited Law School, and self-identify as a "physicist," again without challenge, as a result of a minor course of undergraduate study, then we cheapen the accomplishments of actual scientists. It takes work, and lots of it, to become a scientist, or a professional engineer, and to be quite frank - I haven't done that work.

Instead, I've done different work. I've spent my entire adult life (26 years, for those keeping score at home) learning the technology that allows me to make a living. I've worked damn hard to become an expert in Enterprise Telephony, and I'd put my skills up against my peers any day. In other words, I'm a proficient Technologist.

But I'm not an engineer. Not in the sense that is meant when people talk about STEM. And I think we'd all be better off if such loaded terms were applied a little more conservatively.

I listen to a lot of NPR during the day. Since I work from home 95% of the time, it doesn't bother anyone that my podcasts or music are constantly streaming in the background. Plus it keeps me company - the Boogie Dog may be good company, but he's a poor conversationalist.

One of my favorite hosts is Tell Me More's Michel Martin. I don't always agree with her, but I think she's an honest journalist, and I enjoy her interviews and commentary. So I was saddened to learn that the reason she's not been on the air lately is due to the recent suicide of her brother, Norman McQueen Jr.

Ms. Martin chose to record a commentary on her experience, and it made me think. She commented that the reason she chose to comment publicly on her brother's death was because she felt she had nothing to be ashamed of - her brother was a decent and kind individual, and the circumstances that led to his death did not reflect poorly on him, and in fact, reflected positively on his life and work.

Amen, sister.

I've never lost anyone close to me to suicide. I have no emotional point of reference to this horrifying experience, although I can try to empathize with the grief, the helplessness, and yes, the anger. But one thing I do know is that there should be no shame. The despair required for someone to actively believe the world (and your family) would be better off without you points directly to the underlying fact of suicide - it's the eventual outcome of severe mental illness. It's not weakness, or selfishness - it's mental illness. And mental illness isn't shameful, any more than cancer is.

While I do have some pretty strong opinions about self-determination, especially as it relates to health care, I have to believe that safe, effective treatment for the underlying mental illness is preferable to this outcome.

My sympathy to Ms. Martin and her family, and the hope that, eventually, people will be able to seek and receive effective, timely treatment for the underlying cause of suicide.

As you all know, I have white linoleum in the kitchen and bathrooms here at the Big Yellow House. And I hate it with the heat of a thousand burning suns.

Originally, we were going to replace the evil white linoleum with tiles of some sort. We made arrangements for an installer to come out and measure and give us an estimate. Then I received it:

Yeah. Installation costs for tile are REALLY EXPENSIVE. Like, five times the cost of the materials. And they wouldn't even seal it when they were done, which meant the Smart Man and I would be stuck with that task. Additionally, the logistics involved in keeping the Boogie Dog off the tile while the adhesive and grout set were formidable.

So we looked for alternatives.

And what we decided on was a laminate. We were really surprised at how far the material has come. It has some advantages tile lacks (like not breaking when I inadvertantly drop something heavy on it. You know I will.), and it's really attractive. So tomorrow (tomorrow!) the installers will be here to lay it down.* Here's what we chose for the kitchen and downstairs bath:

And here's what we chose for the upstairs bathrooms:

Today the handyman is coming to disconnect the appliances (the installers will move the appliances, but not disconnect them). The entire project is going to cost a bit more than we had budgeted, but we're still paying cash. Hopefully the project will go well. I really don't want to have to break out the Shovel of Doom™ on the company we've hired. It's a handy tool, but wielding it stresses me out and makes me tired.

In other news, Boogie the Giant Schnauzer appears to be feeling better, thanks to the modern miracle of antibiotics. Yay! I love science...

Today is the 2010 Blog Share. Based on the rules of the event, the following entry has been written by a fellow blog share participant, and my own entry is being hosted on another blog. In order to maintain the anonymity of the participants, please do not identify the author of any entry, even if you guess correctly.

______________________________________

I thought I was going to be fired on Friday. I HOPED I was going to be fired on Friday. And I know to say that at a time when SO many people are unemployed is just unconscionable, but listen to my story and then tell me if you still think I'm the worst person in the world.

My job has made me sick. Physically. I've been suffering from so much stress and anxiety that it's affecting every area of my life.

And this is not because of the work itself, but rather the management, who either have no clue what they're doing, or they're absolutely aware of it, and don't care. I've felt for months that they hope to get rid of me somehow - I think I now spend more time answering emails from my manager, demanding that I explain my work and my time, than I do actually working. And last Thursday it really started to catch up to me, when I started having heart palpitations, and last Saturday, my fiance and I went to a party, and in the short hour we were able to stay I nearly threw up twice, and spent the rest of the time on the verge of tears, feeling uncomfortable and nervous and just plain out of place. We left early because all I wanted to do was take some anti-nausea medication and go to bed. Only I don't sleep anymore, so after the anti-nausea medication wore off, I laid awake feeling worried and upset.

Those are just a few of the symptoms I've experienced, and some of them have been so strange that last Monday I called my doctor and essentially begged to be seen. He did fit me in at noon that day, and when I described my symptoms and the problems I've been having, he put his pen down, looked at me and said, "this is awful. You need to quit your job." Understatement of the year! He followed that up with, "you need to go home immediately," and wrote me a sick note for work, and has also sent me for several tests to determine what the other problems I'm now experiencing are.

I returned to work to submit my note and email my manager and our Executive Director to let them know what the situation was. And just as I was about to hit send, I received an email from the ED that just said, "could we meet about 4:30 today?"

I KNEW I was about to be fired, but I wasn't feeling well at all, so I left without answering, and emailed her later to say I had gone home but could return if it was important. She said not to worry about it and to take care of myself. I called a coworker who has had similar trouble at work, and told her what had happened. Her response was, "that's weird, because I've been called in for a meeting at 4:00."

And wouldn't you know it, she was fired.

So I knew for a fact that they had planned to let both of us go on Monday afternoon. I spent 3 days at home trying to rest and dealing with the medical issues that have cropped up in the last few weeks, during which time the ED emailed me to tell me that my sick days had been exhausted (unbeknownst to me, they credited me too many sick days this year), and that the organization could provide me with information about applying for short-term disability. I told them I would be back on Friday, and sure enough, I went in that day fully expecting to be fired - and, like I said, hoping that I would be.

You might be wondering WHY someone would hope to be canned, even under these circumstances. It's because if they let me go without cause, I'm eligible for unemployment, whereas if I quit before I have another job to go to, I am not. Short term disability would provide me with some unemployment benefits, but not enough. So yes, I just hoped that they would let me go.

But it didn't happen. Instead, my manager and the ED met with me on Friday morning to "make sure that I'm doing okay" and that I have all of the supports I need to make the transition back to work. The ED also wanted to let me know that she knows - through "office chatter" - that I think she has a negative opinion of me, and that it's "just not true." Which is funny because when my former supervisor (who LOVED me but HATED our ED) quit, the ED said to me, "the downside to [supervisor] being really enthusiastic about you is that I'm not enthusiastic about you at all." So, you know, I don't know what would make me think she has a negative opinion of me - OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT SHE TOLD ME SO HERSELF.

I'm positive they were going to fire me last Monday afternoon. And I think going on sick leave before they could do it threw a wrench into their plans and now it would just be totally uncool of them to fire someone who was freshly back from sick leave. I also think they were hoping they wouldn't HAVE to fire me, and that I would just not be able to return to work - evidenced by the fact that when I walked through the door this morning one of my coworkers looked like she had seen a ghost, and then threw her arms around me and said, "oh my god, thank GOD you're okay! We were told you were on extended, indefinite sick leave!" Extended, indefinite sick leave. My email to my boss actually had just said that the doctor had informed me I couldn't work at the moment and that I would be in touch shortly - which turned out to be a day and a half later. I don't know what is extended OR indefinite about that, but I'm sure they were wishing I had just not returned.

They'll wait me out now - my contract expires in August and of course they won't renew it - and I'm sure they won't make my life any easier until then, but you know, it doesn't really matter. I feel like I can't really lose now. I WANTED to be fired; they didn't take the opportunity to do so. I can hold out for 3 months (or sooner if I find something else in the meantime), and walk away feeling fine about it. I may be stressed out, but I'm quite sure that they're feeling more stress than I am right now. Because how much does it suck for them that I went on sick leave ONE MINUTE before I was able to agree to attend a meeting where I was going to be fired? And maybe, just maybe, I won't be the one losing sleep anymore.
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I love yellow, and I can't wear it under any circumstances. Thus the Big Yellow House, and the slow encroachment of Yellow Irises in a Zombie Horde-like fashion. I'm actually beginning to wonder which will win the eventual epic battle - the Pernicious Snit, or the Yellow Irises.

I've been a busy, busy human this last week. The fabulous Jeri was visiting Denver for a business meeting, and we both took Thursday and Friday off in order to spend some time on shopping, massage, and pedicures. I also had a get together with old friends last evening on the other side of town after I dropped Jeri off at the airport.

Basically, I've spent the week leaving the house and being around other people. You all know how I feel about THAT.

So now I'm feeling a bit thin and overextended. I intentionally schedule my life at a slower pace than I used to, and when that pace is increased (even for good and fun reasons, as this last week), I do get somewhat stressed and it aggravates my insomnia.

In any event, here are the things that have been going on that I have had no time to blog or tweet about due to the breakneck speed of my life:*

For those of you following the daily details of the health of the Boogie Dog, he has been diagnosed with sinusitis, and is now taking antibiotics to see if we can't clear that up. He's kind of a snotty dog at the moment, but we're hoping he'll be feeling better in a day or two.

When we were at the massage place on Thursday, the woman at the counter was telling us about some pervy guy who had been calling all day looking for a "sensual massage." Um, no. Not likely. Turns out the individual in question had been banned from the franchise for exposing himself to a massage therapist in an attempt to secure the aforementioned "sensual massage." No happy ending for you - may I recommend a trip to East Colfax?

In an act of solidarity with the Gimpy Michelle, yesterday the UCF Trollops painted their toenails in various shades of purple:

I bought three pairs of shoes and two Coach bags during our two days of shopping. Having the UCF Trollops here is bad for my shopping budget, but fabulous for my style. Hmm...shoes. And BAGS!

Tonight the Smart Man and I will be attending a wine tasting downtown with the Incomparable Anne™, the Fabulous Stacey and JR, and various and sundry other folks. We've never been to a wine tasting before, and since the Smart Man enjoys wine, and there will be other beverages available for me, it should be fun. Because really, what I need to do is to LEAVE THE HOUSE AGAIN and BE AROUND MORE PEOPLE. Just kidding - I'm looking forward to it. But you can bet I won't be going anywhere tomorrow.

I'll be back to my normal schedule this week, and I hope that will resolve some of my insomnia issues, as well. Fabulous week, but I'm glad it's over.

Spring is finally in the air, and in spite of some unexplained nose bleeds (waiting on blood work results for those with an emotional investment), Boogie is in fine form after walkies, rolling around in the grass and making growly noises. He's not a huge fan of summer - it's too hot for an older dog with a black coat - but Spring invites all sorts of interesting smells.

I read an article the other day in the New Scientist, called "Living in Denial: Why Sensible People Deny the Truth." The author makes some excellent points regarding how denialism is the most natural thing in the world for humanity, and actually looking at the world with a critical frame of mind requires work, and lots of it. The basic hypothesis was that people deny the findings of science because to accept them would relinquish a level of control that makes them uncomfortable.

An extremely thought-provoking article, and I recommend it.

And I was thinking about it the other night while lying awake with no hope of recapturing sleep, and this quote from Pat Moynihan came to mind:

“Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts.”

I realize I have a low tolerance for the woo and denialism - faith healing, homeopathy, dowsing, young earth creationism, climate science denialism, chiropractic - all of it drives me up the wall, because from my point of view, it seems so very ignorant. Willfully ignorant, in fact. And yet, people who choose to live their lives based on faith don't bother me. People who choose to believe in psychic phenomena don't bother me. I don't agree with their point of view - but they don't bother me.

What bothers me is when people attempt to confuse issues of belief with issues of fact. Issues of fact are those that can be settled by the scientific method. Issues of belief are those that can't. Seems simple enough, but I'm constantly amazed by the number of people who confuse this very simple rule of thumb in preference for what they FEEL. Here are some examples:

BELIEF: Vaccines cause autism. We know this is a belief because when the evidence is presented, it consists of "mommy instinct" and logical fallacy, which does not meet the litmus test for the scientific method.

Conversely, I believe science and rationalism should keep its nose out of metaphysical hypotheses that cannot be falsified. I have no issue with the study of religion, and although I don't share the viewpoint of people of faith, I see value in learning about it. Like so:

BELIEF: God is real, and cares about each and every one of us.

FACT: There is no fact - the hypothesis is unfalsifiable, and as long as those who believe the hypothesis do not try to confuse their belief with FACT, there is no problem.

So what gets my goat about manufactured controversies such as vaccines or evolution is the deniers' predilection for attempting to confuse their BELIEF with FACT, and getting everyone else to do the same. The facts of a hypothesis have no correlation to a specific individual's (or group of individuals') emotional investment in the outcome - reality is king. If your point of view is so all-fired defensible, the logical shenanigans used by the anti-vaxers and the Intelligent Design crowd aren't necessary. Simply defend your position using the tools of the scientific method, and let the best hypotheses win.

I once had a devout friend ask me if I would change my mind about evolution and a creator God if I was confronted with irrefutable evidence that was contrary to the accepted scientific point of view. My response? "Of course." That's science, and to quote XKCD, it works, bitches.

Okay, not really. Knitting for charity isn't such a redemptive experience that it's going to lead me to salvation (even if I was inclined to such ideas).

But I do knit a lot of pieces - I find that since I quit smoking (almost ten years ago, now), I need something productive to do with my hands, and knitting fits the bill. Which presents a problem - the simple fact of the matter is that I do not have enough family members or friends to wear and use all the crap I knit, so I had to find a home for this stuff.

Enter the Longmont Senior Center Knit and Purl club, where my Hot Mom is a member. These fabulous ladies knit for a variety of charities, including Head Start, Adopt-a-Family and the Cheyenne VA Hospital, and are happy to take my offerings and deliver them to folks who need them. A couple times a year I take a day off and head up there to visit with the members, and drop off whatever I have on hand. They also provide me with donated yarn so my little hobby isn't quite as expensive as it could be. Seems like some of these old ladies are hoarders, and when they pass on, they leave a butt-load of yarn, which I'm happy to take and turn into hats, scarves and lap robes.

Today is one of my biannual forays, so I'll be off-line and on the road. Enjoy your day, Hot Chicks and Smart Men, and don't burn the place down while I'm gone. Or I'll be forced to move in with you. And no one wants that.

You know, I understand a candidate's desire to polish their public image in order to get elected. Everyone wants to put their best foot forward when they're running for office, and leveraging your experiences in order to appear to be "the best man for the job" is part of the process.

But you shouldn't lie.

And you especially shouldn't lie about things that can be easily verified.

And you really shouldn't lie about things that make you look like an opportunistic douche bag with no honor and no respect for the men and women who have served our nation in uniform in combat zones.

Here's the thing - Mr. Blumenthal didn't lie in an overt manner in terms of whether or not he served in country during the Vietnam war. He simply implied, and rather strongly, that he had. Weaselly SOB.

And here's what I don't get. In spite of his five deferments during the Vietnam era, Mr. Blumenthal did in fact serve in the United States Marine Corps Reserve. I've heard no rumors that his service during that time was anything less than honorable. His unit was simply not called up.

So why would you risk your reputation by attempting to exaggerate your service or imply you did in fact serve in a combat role, when the truth is perfectly honorable and defensible? It may not be as exciting, but it has the unassailable virtue of being true.

Mr. Blumenthal, you are an ass. Honorable veterans speak the truth about their service, and do not try and falsely imply experiences they haven't had for political purposes. Because the truth will serve, you see. If your service was honorable, whether it included combat in Vietnam or not, you have reason to be proud of it, and your lies and exaggerations cheapen it.

I've never served in combat. But I served honorably for seventeen years, and I would not have hesitated to go into harm's way had the situation arisen. That's enough for me. And it should have been enough for Mr. Blumenthal.

___________H/T to the Smart Man, who is also a veteran, but doesn't lie about what he did when in uniform.

As noted in the previous post, when I was a youngster, I had no interest whatsoever in so-called "girl toys." Dolls bored me to tears (literally), and I couldn't understand why anyone would want to play "house" when there were perfectly good Lincoln Logs available.

One of the toys I JUST HAD TO HAVE when I was in elementary school was this:

That's right - Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots! I loved this toy. If memory serves (and it may not - the Mad Cow is never far away), I was the only girl I knew who wanted, and got, this toy.

I don't really remember feeling awkward about being an outlier in this respect. That didn't come until later, when I remember (quite vividly, in fact), that popular girls didn't appear smarter than the boys, and popular girls weren't overtly assertive about going after what they wanted, and popular girls wanted to be stewardesses or teachers rather than engineers or scientists or even Senior Non-Commissioned Officers.

I'm still not very concerned with coddling the egos of insecure men (or women, really). Like a lot of young women, I lost my way as an adolescent and young adult in this respect. I found it again once I realized, and internalized, that my personal and professional self-worth was not dependent on what others thought of me.

On the bright side, my own Smart Girl is farther along on this issue than I was at her age, which pleases me greatly. She has learned, and internalized, the message that she really can do or be whatever she wants, and is making decisions that will allow her the flexibility and freedom to do just that. Go, Smart Girl.

With each generation, women are becoming a little more self-sufficient, a little more sure of their own abilities. Rock 'Em, ladies.

I have always worked (and excelled) in male dominated fields. Does my success have anything to do with the fact that I had zero interest in dolls and other "girl toys" as a youngster, and my parents never tried to get me to change my mind? You be the judge.

Still not a whole lot blooming here at the Big Yellow House. Here's our neighbor's trees, which grow over the fence and fill our yard with a sweet scent for several weeks each Spring.

And here's a flowering bush that the previous owners planted. I'm 100% ambivalent about these bushes, but they're apparently impossible to kill, which makes them ideal for my yard.

Today I'll be planting the perennials I bought yesterday, so there should soon be additional choices for Sunday Flower Pr0n. That's a good thing, as I was on the verge of photographing Dandelions or sneaking around the neighbor's yards to steal the spirits of their flowers through photography.

She's visiting Denver for a business meeting, and is staying here at the Big Yellow House for the week. Thursday and Friday are the FUN DAYS, since she and I are both taking time off of work, and we have some fun things planned with the Incomparable Anne and the Fabulous Stacey. Included on the agenda are pedicures, where I shall have my toenails painted purple in solidarity with the generous and graceful Michelle, who had a most unfortunate accident on Friday.

Currently being conducted in Colorado Springs, Colorado, the Warrior Games are an athletic competition for wounded, ill or injured service members. Events run the gamut from hand cycling, sit down volleyball, swimming, wheelchair rugby and more.

As Seth noted over on FCFHI, this is one thing we're getting better at - giving our wounded soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines the respect and support they deserve, and understanding, as a society, the enormity of their sacrifices on our behalf. These men and women are getting an opportunity to push themselves in new ways, and this event is helping them recapture the feeling of achievement that comes with serving well and with honor.

Of course, reading their stories, looking at their photographs and watching the video of their accomplishments also means I've spent the morning sniffling and wiping my eyes. These are my brothers and sisters-in-arms, and their determination to succeed, and the fact that the military is giving them the opportunity to do so, fills me with pride at their purpose and strength. These are my shippies, both competing and supporting the athletes.

Doing the right thing as individuals and institutions - there's no better feeling in the world.

Bravo Zulu, Warrior Games, to you and all who worked to make this happen. And congratulations to the athletes who are competing. Go, go, go!

I participated lastyear, and it was an interesting experience, so I'll be jumping on the bandwagon once again. Because I'm nothing if not a "jump on the bandwagon" kind of gal. Why, yes, mother, I would jump off a bridge if little Johnny did it first. And I'd blame him all the way down.

For those of you who weren't around for last year's event (where have you been all my life?), here's Northern Hot Chick Megan's explanation of the event. I'm once again shamelessly stealing her content for this because I'm lazy. A lazy, plagiarizing git. With questionable grammar.

The blog share is coming up. If you’re a blogger, you should definitely think about being part of it.

Have you ever wanted to blog about something — been DESPERATE to get a post out of your head — and yet felt that you shouldn’t, because people know who you are? Blog Share is your opportunity to publish that post.

Here’s how it works:

1) People from all over the Internet sign up with Abbersnail. She collects all of the names and assigns swap buddies.
2) You write the post that reveals your deepest, darkest secrets. Or that would really annoy your husband. Or that is just totally out of character for your own site. Whatever.
3) Your post is published on another blog. That same day, you publish someone else’s secret post.

That’s really all there is to it. It’s great fun. There’s a list of all of the participants, so you’ll be able to read all of the posts. For those who are into such things, it’ll get you more traffic and link love, and it will probably bring you some new subscribers.

I know what I’m going to blog about. It is not really a secret, but it is something I feel I cannot post here. I am looking forward to writing it.

If this sounds like something you’d like to try, be sure to sign up. You can read Abbersnail’s post about Blog Share here.

I myself have no fickin' idea what I'm going to write about, so it really is a secret. Even from me. A DEEP DARK SECRET. And who doesn't want to know secrets?

I use Facebook. I have a blog. I use Twitter. I have a presence on LinkedIn and other professional clearinghouses. This is what I choose - anyone who wants to find me can do so, and my own behavior has made this pretty easy for them.

Which is why I choose not to whine about how my on-line presence has compromised my privacy.

Now, don't get me wrong - I don't think businesses who choose to engage in an on-line business model should have the right to give away my personal or financial information to the highest bidder. What I'm talking about here is social media. Media that I myself have voluntarily joined for my own reasons.

The current brouhaha is about Facebook's increasingly douchey policies when it comes to protecting (or more accurately, not protecting) the privacy of it's users. I have my privacy on Facebook set to a level where I'm comfortable, but there's a lot of buzz around how we should "teach Facebook a lesson" about "protecting our privacy." There's even a netroots movement to boycott Facebook for the day (June 6th, in case you're interested) as a way to change their behavior.

I understand why Facebook has made the changes they have. I mean, seriously - it's not rocket science. Facebook is a FREE SERVICE. That means their revenue stream is all about their advertisers. You can bet that any change they make to their privacy policies has everything to do with their advertisers being able to data mine your preferences for the purposes of targeted advertisements* and nothing to do with what's best for their so-called "customers." Unless significant numbers of people give up their Facebook accounts in protest (which I don't think is going to happen), Facebook will continue to cater to their revenue stream to the detriment of its users.

Don't like it? There's an easy answer - don't use social media. I assume that everything I put on the Internet through my blog, Twitter and Facebook are in the public domain (regardless of my so-called "privacy settings"). Everything. If I don't want my opinions in the public domain, I don't put them on the Internet. Simple.

Make no mistake - I'm concerned about privacy, and I support the EFF and other watchdog organizations who fight the good fight on our behalf. I just think it's incredibly naive to assume that if you choose to use social media, that your privacy isn't ALREADYcompromised. You think Facebook and other businesses have your best interests at heart? Bitch, please. As my political science professor used to say - follow the money. If compromising your privacy is going to lead to someone, anyone, making money - your privacy is toast. Welcome to reality.

________________*Except their data-mining technology appears to blow big chunks. I keep getting a Facebook ad for Sarah Palin's latest Rally of the Damned here in Denver. Really? You think that's an activity I'm liable to attend? Yeah. I'll get right on that. Right after I attend my John Birch Society meeting.

Lena Horne died on Sunday at the age of 92. In honor of her incredible life and legacy, I'm going to honor her as an Ill-Behaved Woman.

With all of the incredible homages and retrospectives currently on the Web honoring Ms. Horne, I'm going to simply embed this medley of her signature classic Stormy Weather from the same movie, and Believe in Yourself, from The Wiz.

A true American heroine. You will be missed, Ms. Horne - and remembered.

I've been having kind of a crap day today for a variety of work related reasons, most of them stupid and petty. So imagine my delight when today's mail brought me LOOT. LOOT FOR ME.

The Mechanicky Gal sent me this nifty shopping bag and pouch because the art reminded her of me. The funny part? I've had a shopping bag hanging around the Big Yellow House for three months waiting for me to get off my ass and get it in the mail for her. It doesn't have this drawing, but one that more accurately suits her personality.

She knows me so well. I do indeed love not camping. Or camping at the Hotel del Coronado. In their luxury suite. With room service. Either way, really.

Today is Mother's Day, which is traditionally the day to plant here in Colorado, from a weather point of view. I won't be planting though - after our family's traditional Mother's Day brunch at the Fresh Fish Company, I am now obligated to write a paper for my Science, Technology and Markets class. Something I'm not particularly interested in doing, by the way. This class started out in a promising manner, but the nicest thing I can say about it now is "meh."

Yeah. There's $1,900.00 I'll never get back.

In any event, here's this week's Flower Pr0n. Blooms are still pretty sparse here at the Big Yellow House, but I'm hoping that my planned trip to Lowe's this week will rectify that.

This is the ground cover I planted on the south tiers of our home about seven years ago. It's spread and spread, with not a lot of help from me. That's a good thing, as any plant that actually requires my active care is pretty much going to die a slow and painful death around here.

Here's the thyme that grows on the South side of the Big Yellow House in the front. This is another one that spreads pretty well on it's own, and I like the way the flowers look.

The yellow irises my Hot Mom gave me aren't yet ready to bloom, but when they do - man alive, I'm going to be awash in yellow irises. I can live with that, especially since a number of my annuals did not come back this year and I'm going to have to replace them.

I'm going to quit procrastinating now and get to writing my paper. Have a good Sunday and a nice Mother's Day, Hot Chicks and Smart Men.

Is on its way OUT. Today the Smart Man and I went over to Lowe's and picked out some tile for the kitchen and all the bathrooms. We'll be selling the Big Yellow House in the next several years, and we figured we'd like to enjoy some of our home improvements rather than having the work done and then selling immediately.

Here's what we're considering for the kitchen and the laundry room/bathroom, which are both on the main floor. These areas tend to carry a lot of traffic, and for the first several years we lived here, keeping the white linoleum clean was the bane of my existence. After that, I just stopped caring.

We're taking the Mechanicky Gal's advice and getting something a bit darker and textured. That way when the Boogie Dog drags the great outdoors into the house (and he will, believe me - he will), it won't show quiteas badly.

Here's what we're considering for the upstairs bathrooms:

We wanted something lighter up there, because one of the bathrooms doesn't have a window, and the darker tile would probably have made it rather cave-like.

The installers will be coming by in the next couple of weeks to measure and such. After that, we'll order the tile and schedule the installation. You just know that'll be fun. But the reward will be the end of the white linoleum from hell. Hallelujah!

Boogie is unimpressed with my current task of reviewing Unified Communication options within the context of Enterprise Telephony virtualization and mobility. He's much more interested in the crunchy Milkbone Combo Snacks that I keep in a jar near my work area.

I actually managed to sleep last night without struggling with insomnia. Yay! But I'm still trying to plow through the 4,587,289 hours of mandatory training I have on my plate. Boo!

The result is a case of mushy brain. A brain like overcooked cauliflower. I'm still trying to determine if that's better or worse than Broccoli Brain. I'm thinking whichever one has the lowest drool factor.

In any event, today you get my mental detritus rather than any scintillating political analysis or social commentary.

There's more than one way to skin a pole

There's a new business in the strip mall near our house. It's one of those pole-dancing-as-exercise-and-self-esteem-enhancement places, and it's called "Mile High Pole Club." (Insert obvious and tired sex joke here). Now I have no intention of patronizing this establishment, but not because I have any issue with their activities, their business model or their customers. The simple fact of the matter is that if I were to attempt such an activity, there's no doubt in my mind that I would end up braining myself either on the floor or on the pole. Given that fact, I'll be sticking with the Evil Machine of Torture.

Don't you wish you were graceful and sophisticated like me?

Black holes FTW!

The winner of the LEGENDARY ADDRESS LABEL CONTEST IS...Anne! Her suggestion that I really should be using an image of a black hole as homage to the freeze-dried whack-a-loon's who believed (still believe) the LHC would (will) create black holes that would swallow the planet, oh noes. Here's the image I selected:

Anne is receiving a FABULOUS PRIZE. A FABULOUS PRIZE from BonBon Bars! The rest of you can commence your envy. Or you can go to the web site and order your own fabulous confections. I'm quite sure Nina would appreciate it.

Hey! Cute shoes!

I've been looking for some shoes to wear with jeans. I don't typically like to wear athletic shoes with jeans, and I'm getting a little bored with my Dansko's. So I've been looking and looking. I did find one pair I just loved, but I needed a size 39.5, which (of course), Josef Seibel doesn't make, the narrow minded bastards. So I kept looking. And while I was perusing the aisles of one of my favorite stores, DSW, I came across these:

Totally not what I had in mind, but really - so cute! I'll re-institute the search for leather shoes for jeans in the fall, when the choices might be better due to them actually being in season. But really - how can you go wrong with rubber toed canvas tennies? Just looking at them makes me laugh and laugh. Although that could be the broccoli brain talking.

Put him in a barrel and feed him through the bunghole

Don't you wish you could just put Joe Lieberman in a barrel and feed him through the bunghole? Seriously - "The Terrorism Expatriation Act?" REALLY, Joe? Is there no depth you won't stoop to in order to get your name in the paper? What a tool.

Have a nice Thursday, Hot Chicks and Smart Men. It's back to salt mines of my 4,587,289 hours of mandatory training for me. Send help.

So today I don't celebrate Cinco de Mayo - I celebrate Cindi de Mayo, the birthday of my Hot Sister, Cindi in CO. She hasn't come around here in a long time, mostly because I think heading to her small town library to read a blog called "Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men" may have made her a social pariah in her very small, very conservative community.

No worries - I'll still honor her birth today, whether she knows it or not.

I have insomnia. The type of insomnia I suffer from isn't that I can't go to sleep when I lay down - instead I wake up at one or two or three or four a.m., and I'm unable to get back to sleep. I'm grateful that it's not as bad as it could be, though. It's intermittent, and I've managed to get it pretty much under control in the last couple years. It does come up periodically, though. Like last night.

Aside from the chronic fatigue, the thing I hate the most about insomnia is laying there, unable to fall back asleep, being haunted by what I call "dark thoughts." They're the niggling insecurities, big and small, realistic and not, that invade my mind and won't let go when all I really want is to go back to sleep:

My Hot Mom will be seventy this year, and she lives alone. She's pretty self-sufficient, and I communicate with her several times a week via phone, e:mail or Facebook. But what if she fell, and I didn't notice I hadn't heard from her in a few days?

I'm learning to love my Emmylou hair, but what if the Smart Man decides he wants someone "younger looking?"*

What will I do when the Boogie Dog dies? He's not a young dog anymore, and I'm just SOFT when it comes to him.

Is Anderson Cooper gay, and why the Hell am I thinking about it, anyway?

Will I ever get a chance to change careers to something I will find more meaningful, more fulfilling, or will I be stuck selling PHONES for the rest of my working life?

Will the Mad Cow continue to eat my brain until the Smart Man is forced to institutionalize me because I have Broccoli Brain and I can't take care of myself?

I'm going to be forty-five this year. How the Hell did THAT happen? And why do I still feel young and not middle aged? Except for my neck. What the Fuck is happening to my NECK?

Am I really a good person? Just how offensive is my natural arrogance? I think I really need to get over myself. Seriously - you have MAD COW. How smart could you possibly BE?

Will I be successful in achieving my weight loss goals, or am I doomed to being chubby until I die (of Mad Cow, no doubt).

I try not to be maudlin, and I'm a firm believer that I have at least some control over the outcomes of my life. I really have no idea why these middle of the night pessimism-fests keep coming up, but I have to say - they suck.

I need a nap...

____________*This one is especially retarded, given the state of my relationship with the Smart Man. That's why they're called "Dark Thoughts."

HA! You probably thought this was going to be another post about my interminable diet and Weight Watchers and how my love affair with ice cream and the salty-crunchy has had some very unfortunate results, didn't you?

PSYCH.

It's actually about a much LARGER issue. An issue of PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE.

My address labels.*

Thanks the wonderful Random Michelle, I have three varieties of address labels that I can use, but quite frankly - I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. My first variety features a photo of a hobby I no longer pursue:

My next labeled featured this, kind of as an inside joke. Spreading joy where ever I go - that's me:

My third choice was a reflection of a prior life, one that shaped who I am, but one from whom I've moved on:

So here I am - in need of a new symbol for my all-important address labels, and I need you Hot Chicks and Smart Men to WEIGH IN.

Please paste the links to your suggestions in the comments. Anyone who posts a link to either the Pr0n or the Food Pr0n (yes, John the Scientist, I am looking at you) is getting the Shovel of Doom™. The winner, however, will win a PRIZE. That's right - a PRIZE. No, you can't ask what the prize is. No, you can't name your own prize. Greedy bastards.

Today we went to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, one of my favorite places on earth, with the Fabulous Stacey and the equally Fabulous JR. After perusing the "Body Worlds" exhibit and watching the Hubble IMAX film, we walked around to the park, where I took these with my cell phone. I decided to use them for Flower Pr0n, because quite frankly, nothing is blooming here at the Big Yellow House with the exception of the Lonely Tulip™.

I've been taking a break from Weight Watchers for the past seven weeks. I was just TIRED. Tired of counting my points, tired of having to plan every meal. You know, the usual whiny complaints about how come I can't eat whatever I want, whenever I want, with no consequence, life ain't fair, blah, blah, blah.

Well, today I'm getting back on the bandwagon. I've gained a few pounds* during my hiatus, but I'm getting back on plan soon enough that I don't feel like I'm starting over. I figure it will take me a couple of weeks to lose my "backslide pounds," and then I'll get busy losing the next 30.

You know that saying, "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels?" Yeah, that's not entirely true, at least for me. I'm glad I took this break, and ate some of the things I'd been missing over the past months, like Ben & Jerry's Stephen Colbert's AmeriCone Explosion. But the time has come for me to behave in a more disciplined manner when it comes to my food choices. Here we go again!

_____________*Okay - five pounds. I'm trying to take my weight loss journey in an honest manner, without resorting to euphemisms, but at the same time not beating myself up. So I GAINED FIVE POUNDS. Which I will lose in the next two weeks. Go, me.

About Me

I am a Hot Chick living in Castle Rock, CO with my fabulous family. We have a rescue dog named "Jackson," and she's a Basenji/Shepherd mix. She's something of a head case, but we love her. I'm a U.S. Navy vet, and I currently work as an Enterprise Solutions Architect, specializing in VoIP and multimedia contact center design. I'm a Trustee for my local library, because LIBRARIES. I care about science, the U.S. Constitution and the military. I'm a tax and spend liberal in a largely red county, but I try not to be stabby about it. I like to color, I aspire to run faster than I do, and I donate knitted cold weather gear to various charities. Stupidity, cupidity and wanton assholery piss me off, and I'm more than a little soft when it comes to dogs and those who serve others. I blog about whatever I feel like. I use foul language, so if that sort of thing offends you, feel free to fuck off now - if I'm unwilling to clean up my language for my fabulous Great Auntie Margie, I'm unlikely to do so for you. Newcomers are welcome here, especially those who disagree with me, but trolling and spamming will be met with the Shovel of Doom™.